What Lies Within
by Lil black dog
Summary: What lies within each of us in the deepest, darkest recesses of our minds? Jim Kirk had the misfortune to find out.


Challenge response from elsewhere: Write a Trek story reflecting the spirit of the following quote - _"Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn't there."_

Beta: Many thanks to Anna, who has been most patient and indulgent with me since this journey began. Words cannot begin to express how important this is to me…

**What Lies Within**

He was tossing and turning in his narrow bunk, unable to let go of the events of the day. He had almost lost four men this day, and that was unacceptable. He resolved to never again be in space without at least one working shuttlecraft. Had they had even one on board today, what had almost occurred would not have been an issue. They were en route to Starbase 6 even now, despite orders to the contrary, to retrieve the two craft which had been left there for routine maintenance and repairs, the ship forced to leave without them due to a crushing schedule from Starfleet Command. He knew there would be ramifications to his actions, but he simply didn't care. This was his ship, and his crew, and he vowed to never again let the powers that be put it or them in jeopardy, no matter the personal cost.

However, this was not all that was troubling him. He fought to relegate the other to the deep, dark recesses of his mind; to not dwell on that over which he had no control. And yet, he found himself unable to do so.

It had been an extremely difficult eight hours, on so many levels. He could not shake the disturbing images that flitted across his consciousness: The wild, crazed eyes; the conceited swagger; the demanding, self-serving attitude, and most of all, the fear and cowardice he had seen. That in itself represented the most devastating element to the sheer revulsion he felt. What he had seen was ugly, disgusting, base, and yet, it was all within him. Buried deep, kept tightly in check to be sure, but there nevertheless.

He swallowed reflexively, the day's events flooding back in an unstoppable torrent which led to some particularly intense and harsh self-examination. Could this beast really be his alter ego? An integral part of his psyche which made him who he was? He thought about the time he'd spent apart from this side of himself. He had been indecisive, meek, weak, ill-equipped to provide comfort, guidance and support for Sulu and the other members of the landing party trapped on the planet below, and yet he had felt acutely their pain and suffering. That pain had been overwhelming in its intensity, effectively preventing him from making the decisions which were necessary for a strong, confident leader during this crisis. Without that part of himself, he'd been unable to think rationally, to look at the problem objectively in an effort to find a solution which would save the men, or to provide the appropriate guidance and example for his crew as was befitting his position as captain.

He could not put a name to the gratitude he felt toward Spock. His First Officer was an enigma, to be sure. In the few months they had served together, Spock had gone out of his way to emphasize that his actions and decisions were based solely on logic, nothing more. But his First's steady support and gentle counsel had acted like a soothing balm to his wounded pride. More than anything, it was the Vulcan's quiet regard for him, coupled with Spock's firm resolve to stand behind him that had helped him to survive this day, and to acknowledge and come to grips with that malevolent creature which, like it or not, dwelt within him.

Now that he had been reunited with this part of himself, the other's memories had become a part of him as well. He examined these distastefully, his gut roiling as he saw through the other's eyes his mistreatment of Bones in sickbay, and his violent attempt to force Janice into something she clearly didn't want. His disregard for Fisher's condition, and total lack of concern for the men trapped on the surface. Only wanting that which was important to him, satisfying his wants and desires at the expense of those around him. He remembered the sickening crunch as his fist impacted with Fisher's nose, and closed his eyes, a disconsolate sigh escaping his lips. He had hit a member of his crew – the crew he strove to protect at all costs; the crew where when any one of them didn't come back from a mission, he felt a tiny part of himself perish with that lost soul.

_Am I a good man? How can I be, if this is who I truly am on the inside? I don't deserve this command, this rank, this ship, or this fine crew._ He felt the despair rising within him. No one should have to come face to face with the sinister side of himself that had been on display for all to see today. Would this change his relationship with Bones? The doctor was a compassionate and caring soul. How would his CMO react to the brutal side of himself that had surfaced today? Would McCoy shrink from him, unable to accept that aspect of his friend's personality, this cruel, insensitive and self-serving individual?

And what of the Vulcan? As supportive and understanding as he had been during the ordeal, what was his reaction when faced with the utter terror and abject fear the other had displayed on the bridge? A Vulcan's loyalty was a gift not to be taken lightly. Chris Pike had emphasized that when they had spoken privately after the change of command ceremony officially making him Captain of the _Enterprise._ How could that man, who exuded self-confidence and consummate control, possibly give his loyalty to someone who had displayed such cowardice?

And Janice? Could she ever trust him again? Perhaps a transfer would be the best solution for both of them. It would be excruciating to be in her presence in the future, knowing what his evil twin had thought, had done. He would be forever guarding his actions around her from now on.

No longer able to deal with the destructive turn his thoughts were taking, he jumped to his feet, pacing the length of his darkened quarters, raking a hand through his hair. As he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above his chest of drawers, he was unmistakably drawn to it, and proceeded to stare at the image, searching the eyes that met his own defiantly. He could detect no trace of the other, only self-assuredness and grim determination being reflected back at him. And yet, he knew that man was buried somewhere deep within himself, hidden from view but there nevertheless. To make matters worse, it was this side of himself that made him the dynamic and charismatic person he was, able to make snap decisions and provide competent and effective leadership for those serving under him. Of its own volition, his hand shot up, a single finger raised in a gesture which transcended human experience. He could not help but grin at himself, and his untoward impulse. Yes it was ugly, yes it was disconcerting, but this was an integral part of who he was, and as difficult as it was to accept, he had seen firsthand today that he was unable to function effectively without it.

"You son of a bitch," he blurted out unexpectedly, angry once again, grasping the dresser with both hands and pushing his face closer to the reflection in the mirror. "You may be in there, but I swear I will never allow you to see the light of day again. I may need you; you may be a part of me, but I am in charge here, and will see that you remain caged and under tight control at all times. The animal within me will never have free reign again." The hazel eyes that met his own went from hard, to soft, to amused. _ Jesus Christ, now I'm talking to myself, _he mused silently, the fleeting, wry grin returning. _That's a sure sign of my instability. _

But he was not unstable; he felt completely in control and at ease in his own skin for the first time today. He knew his resolve would not falter. Just as his crew would never again be in danger due to poor decisions that trickled down from the higher echelons of command, it would also never again be subject to that side of himself which didn't give a damn about anything or anyone but him. He would not permit this experience to destroy him, to eat away at the core of his being, but use it to make himself a better leader, a more understanding and compassionate commander of men. This hidden aberration of his personality may be a part of him, but he would not let it rule him, define him as an individual.

Having reached his decision, he waved a hand dismissively at his reflection and crawled back into bed. He would chalk this up to experience and use it to his advantage, as opposed to letting it consume him, to slowly ravage him from within, sapping his confidence and strength of will. He closed his eyes resolutely and willed himself to sleep, banishing the beast within to the far corners of his mind.


End file.
